Addy Harper climbed the stairs of the Harper Street Shelter for what she sincerely hoped was the last time that day. She was tired all the way down to her bones, and there was nothing in the world she wanted more than a hot bath and a chance to climb between her pretty floral sheets for eight blissful hours.
She made it into her office and through the phone messages that Sandy had left on her desk. She'd worked a head-pounding ten-hour day today, then spent another precious two hours schmoozing potential donors at a gallery opening in Old Tucson. Her feet hurt, her head hurt, and exhaustion was making her stupid.
The financial woes of the shelter, always touch and go, had taken a big hit a month ago, when they learned they were losing a grant due to lack of future funding.
"I'm sorry, Addy," Mike Green had told her, real regret in his eyes. "Feds are cutting funding at every level. We're just not going to have it to give this year."
Addy had nodded, knowing Mike's hands were tied by the political climate. With a heavy heart, she'd called in the bookkeeper. They wrestled long into the night with a brainstorming session the likes of which Addy had never known, and at last came up with a plan to close the funding gap. Two hectic weeks later they had completed the reorganization and opened the Harper Street Shelter and Organ Bank.
Now, exhausted but with a clear sense of hope, Addy began thumbing through the list of potential donors she'd found pan-handling outside the gallery.
Opening: Debhoag......Continuation: ril